


Let Me, Let Me Trash Your Love

by Jeanisnotawinchester (theanonymousj)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, Is it sexting if it is snapchat?, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Polyamory, Public Transportation, Sexting, Should I tag good ole tennesse williams, Snapchat, Wow, and i'm hungry, but if that is a fetish then i'm not judging either, for all of you people with a tennesse williams fetsih?, i'm just playing, i'm losing track of this, idk - Freeform, like no shit they are sexting, maybe i have a tennesse williams fetish, omg, self discovery in the tags rn, very light, where do i start?, you can't sext in snk because THEY HAVE NO PHONES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanonymousj/pseuds/Jeanisnotawinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren and Marco tease Jean via snapchat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me, Let Me Trash Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> Based on some amazing fan art I saw like one time. If you guys find it, tell me and I'll give credit where it's due.
> 
> HOLD UP: Probably fan art by hachidorikun. Amazing artist. Just perfect. Very precious.

“So, I feel like we have finished discussing ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’ now, and it is about time we moved on to our second Williams play; ‘The Glass Menagerie.’ Now, how many of you have already read this play?”

Several students voiced a yes or no, a couple of them raised their hands, and Jean Kirstein sighed deeply and sank lower into his chair. He’d read the play a while ago. He remembered liking it a lot for being dark and intense, and had no interest in taking it apart to the point where he was sick of it for the sake of his degree. Resigning himself to one of Pixis’s drawn out summaries; he took up the pencil on his desk and started to doodle aimlessly. He wished Smith had taken this part of the course – he was so much more concise. Even Dok would have done – Pixis was just a nightmare. Likable, though, and a lot more lenient.

He was halfway through a very bad sketch of an ice cream sundae when his phone buzzed quietly in his pocket. Deciding that Pixis was deep into the character description of Amanda Wingfield, a faded southern belle and a deeply troubled mother of two, and wouldn’t notice a thing Jean did, he slipped the phone from his pocket and tapped the button at the bottom. The screen came to life and his notifications indicated two snapchats from Marco. Marco didn’t have anything to do today, right? The enviable life of a fine art major – though to his credit, Marco worked very hard, which was why he had spare time. He opened the app and held his thumb down on the first snap.

Marco. Marco’s perfect six pack and red boxers. Marco and a single phrase that described exactly what Jean was looking at: ‘ _I’ve got this huge boner...’_

He quickly shut the snap, half regretting not drinking the picture in, half relieved that only Bertholdt and Reiner were sat behind him and – yes, he checked and they hadn’t seen that. Reiner was actually listening to something about ‘bad parenting,’ and Bertholdt was just staring at Reiner. Did the man have no self-restraint?

Did Marco have any, for that matter? Manoeuvring the phone so it was definitely out of his classmate’s line of sight, he opened the second snap. A bathroom selfie; Marco from the waist up, looking simply delicious in absolutely nothing at all: _‘That won’t go away :(‘_

Jean swallowed, eyeing the clock to the left of Pixis; twelve minutes left. Well, Pixis would go on for an extra five at the most. Too long. Way too long if Marco was going to play games with him. Damn it, Marco knew he was in class, and he knew that the main road was having work done – it would take forever to get home! With some determination, he set his jaw and took a quick photo of Pixis lecturing: _‘I’m in class.’_

He waited. He watched the hands move around the clock slowly; the end of the lesson came and went, and Pixis had moved onto his theories behind Laura Wingfield’s limp. Jean groaned quietly, finding himself quite unable to slump any more in his chair. He desperately wanted to get home and give Marco a hand – or his mouth, or for that matter his ass. He could do that. That would be good.

His phone buzzed again and he picked it up: _‘Look who’s home ;)’_

Eren. Eren was home, in the same dark shirt and jeans he’d left in that morning – and Marco had an arm around his neck, still in nothing but those bright red boxers. Had Marco sent those snaps to him as well? Had Eren excused himself early and run home to Marco like some obedient pet? Disgusting. And hot.

And then Pixis was done, and Jean packed his bag at the speed of light, bounding down the steps and through the double doors. He hurried through the complex, swerving around a murderous looking Ymir and an exasperated Christa, waving quickly at Connie, and then more or less throwing himself down the stairwell. His phone buzzed again and he automatically looked at the message. There was no caption this time, just Eren panting and drooling against the wall with Marco biting maroon bruises into his dark skin. Unable to tear his eyes from the scene, he ran straight into a painfully familiar suit. “Kirstein?”

The seconds stretched out and the world fell into slow motion. Erwin Smith’s eyes undoubtedly caught the image on Jean’s phone, as he stepped back and tried to apologise to his teacher for running into him, “I’m sorry Mr. Smith, I didn’t mean to-” The older man waved it off with a knowing smile and continued up the stairs, leaving Jean blushing a furious shade of red. He checked the phone again to find a snap from Eren; Marco’s face with the caption _‘wants to know when ur coming home.’_

Thankfully there were no further messages for the next eight minutes, in which time he left the building, found a bus, and made himself comfortable in the far back corner. His phone promptly buzzed again and he snatched it, wholly unprepared for the image that greeted him. Marco had taken the picture, and he had Eren underneath him, lying on his stomach in the center of the bed. He had two of his fingers in Eren’s mouth, and his tongue was working along more fresh bruises that took up the majority of Eren’s right shoulder. Marco still seemed totally composed, where Eren looked completely undone – which naturally had Jean drooling. He was amazed he even took notice of the caption: _'Put in headphones love.'_

And he did. He’d never untangled his headphones so fast, stuffing them into the socket on his phone and finding several new snaps from Marco already waiting.

“Jeaaan come home, this man is the de-evil, you never told me he was e- ah! – evil.”

Jean slammed a hand over his mouth to hold back a whimper. Marco was fucking Eren. _Marco was fucking Eren and they were sending it all to him. In public._

He opened the next snap, pulling his rucksack into his lap to hide his hard on.

“Baby, I wanna come so bad, I – _fuck! –_ He won’t let me – a-ah…”

His face went positively crimson, but he couldn’t help himself. Marco was sending more and more, and he couldn’t stop.

“He won’t let me – _fuck_ – he says won’t let me come Jean, please –”

The videos became shakier as they went on, Marco obviously struggling to remain collected – although not struggling enough to stop sending the snaps altogether.

“Jean, p-p-please come home soon, he’s a fuck- ah!-fucking monster, J- ah!”

Next snap. He needed the next snap.

“Mmnn… Jean, please-” Eren was cut off as Marco bit into his neck, and he moaned loudly.

Next snap.

“Ba-aby come home now, please b-baby, please come home…”

Next. Snap.

Eren was almost sobbing. He looked so fucking beautiful when he did that.

“P-please, I - ah! – I can’t t-take this, Jean, b-baby please-”

The bus ground to a halt and Jean flung himself forward, almost missing the stop. His feet hit the pavement and he started running.

“Jeannn, please I-I’m so close, Jean hurry – hurry up!”

He narrowly avoided running into a group of tourists, and made a sharp left. He was on their road now.

“Ah! Marco! _Fuck! I - Marco!”_

In the next snap Marco had pulled out of Eren and rolled him onto his back, where he was squirming uncomfortably with Marco pinning his wrists to the mattress with one hand. Marco spoke this time, his voice surprisingly level despite being a little breathless.

“Come on Jean, he won’t last much longer.”

Jean burst through the doors and took the stairs two at a time. Of course they were on the fourteenth floor, where else would they be?

‘No new snaps.’ So what, were they just sitting around waiting for him?

He stuffed the key into the lock and shoved the door open, slamming it shut and darting into the bedroom. Marco had actually tied Eren’s hands to the headboard, and had one hand holding the base of his cock with the other holding his thigh down as he left a fourth bruise on it. Eren was panting hard, and opened a single eye to look at Jean. His voice was strained, “you took y-your fucking time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shortbread and lemonade for reading (because cookies and milk is too mainstream), kudos and comments always massively appreciated. I'm still experimenting with how I like to write texts and stuff, so that's partially why this exists. Also, polyamory. I am down with that shit. And oh look, another fob title - a largely irrelevant one too. Anyways, thanks and happy reading!


End file.
